


Out of My Head

by bijouni



Category: Basketball RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Angst, Basketball, Boo's kinda angsting a bit, Did I mention drama, Drama, Emotional Constipation, I think Durant is waiting for the next coming of days, Just take this away from me, M/M, Sexual Content, Sports, These two still haven't talked to this day, Unresolved Feelings, wth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bijouni/pseuds/bijouni
Summary: “I don’t know if Russ was hurt,” says center Steven Adams, “because he’d never tell me, and he’d definitely never tell you.”[Takes place Game 3 of GSW v. OKC 2017 Regular Season Match-Ups]





	

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://s1020.photobucket.com/user/Nikki_83/media/ah_zpsngskhrsg.jpg.html)  
>   
>  Oh, this wasn't a prompt? Oops.

_He shouldn’t have felt anything._

Kevin Durant fell down hard, awkwardly tripping over his feet and stumbling from an attempted shot. The whistle blew. A foul called on Robenson, technical, as the Thunder player barked a few colorful, choice words at KD while the latter collected himself off the ground.

_He shouldn’t have felt the heat that churned in his stomach when Roberson stepped nose to nose to Durant, foul language amplifying and the already intense atmosphere growing hostile still._

Russell came up swiftly, shoving Durant back as he moved to stand in front of Anderson. 

_Durant had left. Without a single word, he left Westbrook in the dark._

The referees swarmed in, along with all the other Golden State and Oklahoma City players on the court to stop anything serious from breaking out. The whistle shrilled again, this time a technical on Iguodala for telling an official to keep their hands off him.

The situation gradually calmed down. Russell took the placating moment to catch his breath, walking away, hands to his hips and sweat dripping down his face as his head hung low. He thought he might be sick. To the outside looking in, it looked as if Russell was just defending his teammate, getting Durant away from him. But Russell knew, and it made his heart beat a dull ache. His automatic involvement had nothing to do with protecting Roberson. 

**I’m going to gs. -Read 10:40 PM.**

It had to do with protecting KD. 

“...ll. Russell!!” 

He looked up. It was Huestis, the other guys staring at him expectantly.

“You ready? You're gonna shoot the technical on Iguodala.”

He nodded once, moving to his spot at the freethrow line and motioning for the referee to pass him the ball. 

The match continued on like normal. Russell made his frees. The crowd was incessant in expressing their displeasure for the opposing side. The Golden State Warriors pulled out another double digit victory.

Westbrook’s walk through the tunnel was a brisk one. He hadn’t shook any of the Warriors’ hands, his comments to his teammates were brief and only a few lucky fans got to low-five him in his path to be out of sight. 

His head was down as if he was reflecting on the match and, in truth, he was. Just not particularly over the loss like most people would suspect.

He was already in the shower when he heard his teammates filing into the locker room. It was silent for a minute before someone groaned, “Mannnnn.” Oledipo, Westbrook mused.

Kanter spoke, “What I would give to crush them. Just once.”

“You and the rest of us, man.” Roberson exhaled.

“Yeah, we know you want to.” There was a grin in his voice. “You almost kicked Durant’s ass back there. ‘Ol cupcake ass.”

Roberson’s smirk was practically audible. “He didn’t want any of this. That bitch was shook.”

The guys all laughed. Russell considered if he was quiet enough maybe they would forget he was there and leave without any interaction. Though, he jinxed himself, he concluded, because at that moment Kanter called, “Russ? You alright?”

“What?” Westbrook pretended he couldn’t hear him over the running water.

“Are you okay?” he yelled a little louder.

Russell smacked his lips. “What kinda question is that? Of course I’m okay.”

Kanter chuckled, shrinkingly. “Just checking. You left kinda quick, so I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well or somethin’.”

“Nah, man, I’m good.”

“Alright.”

He could imagine the guys exchanging inquiring looks, but he knew no one would press the matter further. Not in front of him, anyway. They never did.

After a little over a quarter hour, people were decamping the showers and the locker room altogether. It wasn’t long until the multiple, lively voices died down to one or two.

Westbrook was at his locker now, tossing some clothes into his gym bag.

“A couple of us are gonna grab a bite at Mahogany.” Adams leaned his head around the corner.

He didn’t ask Westbrook if he wanted to come or even allude to an invite because he already knew Westbrook’s answer. Adams was observant like that, sensitive, yet kind enough to let Russell know anywho in case there was a chance in hell he’d change his mind. It was something Westbrook appreciated about his seven foot tall teammate.

“Alright,” Westbrook replied because that’s all he needed to say.

Adams gave a small, supportive smile before moving away and out the door.

Westbrook looked in the direction he disappeared then let out a deep sigh. He was engulfed in the silence. He plopped down on the cement bench lining the lockers and rested his head back against his with a _thud_. 

He managed to nod off for an unknown length of time, basking in the hush atmosphere in peace until his troubling thoughts demanded entry. He tried pushing them back, ignore them like he always did, but the knock against his skull only grew louder and he opened his eyes, figuring taking in the sights around him would prove a better distraction, anything at all. Had the wall always been a cream color? He always thought it more of a beige. 

“...This isn’t working,” he announced. He reasoned his teammates gone would allow him to clear his mind, but now he wished they were still there to talk to, at least listen to. They never gossiped too much about the game after a loss, so it would be fine.

He stood up, deciding he’ll join them for dinner after all. Checking his phone, his brows raised as he saw he'd dozed off for a half hour and began to worry if his team was even still at the restaurant. Probably not. Or maybe so. Sometimes they stuck around for nearly two when the mood was right and, despite the loss, the guys seemed in overall good spirits.

“...We shall see,” Westbrook murmured to himself, tucking his phone back into his pants pocket. 

The arena should be near vacant, given the time and how loud Westbrook’s own steps resounded across the floor. 

He pondered that he could simply text Adams and ask their whereabouts, but driving there was something to do, so he successfully brushed that logic aside. He was already considering what songs he would play in the ride over as he walked out the room- Kendrick? Maybe Katy Perry. Migos? -when he noticed another body out the corner of his eye. Naturally, he glanced over and immediately regretted his decision, his heart sinking like a stone in his chest.

Why was Durant still there? 

“Why are you still here?” Westbrook found himself voicing aloud. There was a venom to his words that added _‘You shouldn’t be here’_ and he knew Durant probably heard it. He didn’t care.

“Just wanted to embrace the nostalgia a bit.” Durant looked as startled as Russell was, but hid it well. If they didn’t have eight years between them, Russell probably wouldn’t even have noticed.

Westbrook snorted, shaking his head. The life of this conversation was already longer than he intended. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag, beginning to turn away when Durant spoke again, “The guys already left. Said they were going to celebrate.”

Westbrook made a face before realizing it. That was akin to throwing a surprise birthday party for someone and the person whose birthday it was wasn’t even there. He knew this was a highly anticipated game for not only the fans and the media, but for the Golden Boys as well. It was KD’s first time back in Oklahoma since he left. His new, loving family- Westbrook felt sick again -undoubtedly wanted to support him. A victory should’ve meant a celebration _for_ KD, _with_ KD. So, again.

What was he doing here?

“Okay.” Westbrook said. Durant probably told his team he’ll meet up with them after he finishes down memory lane. Westbrook mused maybe someone like Green wouldn’t allow that. _‘Nuh-uh, man.’_ He would take Durant’s arm. _‘You’re the maid of honor, let’s celebrate.’_ Green seemed that type of guy. No looking back or whatever. Either way, it was no concern of Westbrook’s. He felt out of place just entertaining the possibilities.

He made to move past KD with no further comment when the latter took his arm. 

“We need to talk, Russ.”

Russell jerked his arm back. Durant was in no position to touch him so casually anymore. “Don’t touch me, man.” 

“Russ, come on...” KD lowered his hand, though his arm still extended. Like the offer was still there. Like Russell was going to take his hand or some crazy shit. “...Don’t be like this.”

Russell was starting to see red. He spun on his heel, giving KD his full attention. “Be like what?!” he demanded. “I’m being myself. You’re the one who pulled a Houdini and refused to actually speak to me for damn near a year. How about this? You just _text_ me whatever you wanna talk about. You seem to prefer that, anyway.”

“...This is proof we need to talk.”

Westbrook’s cheeks warmed. He felt bare all of a sudden.

“Talk to yourself, man,” he muttered, falling back into his departure with newfound determination when he was tugged by his bicep. Without a second thought, his fist balled by his side, ready to sock KD in the jaw. “What the fuck did I just-” he began hotly before warm lips covered his own. 

Westbrook could almost feel his eyes bulging out of his head.

_What the fuck._

The shock was so overwhelming, Russell felt as if he allowed the kiss to stretch on for five minutes when in reality it was probably closer to five seconds. When in reality his eyes drifted close. When in reality he was 

kissing Durant back?

Russell shoved Durant forward, a _smack_ from their mouths separating, too loud for his ears. 

The taller stumbled back a few steps, wide eyes meeting Russell’s equally blown saucers. Russell was the first to speak. “D-Don’t you fucking--!” He cursed his stammer, only growing angrier, and it was the last upset he needed to open the flood gates. “ _ **Yo, what the fuck, bro?! Never in your life touch me. Never in your fucking life touch me, man! You got me fucked up! You got me fucked up, bro! The fuck is wrong with you?**_ ”

Durant’s head was lowered, a somber expression over his face.

“Oh, now you don’t wanna say shit?! I thought you wanted to talk. Now you ain’t got shit to say?!?!”

“Russ.” 

Westbrook halted like KD’s whisper was the emergency brake to his Lamborghini going 110. 

He growled, a loud _bang_ from his fist colliding with the wall beside him. Durant’s expression flashed concern, jaw going slack. He had no right. He had no right to be surprised by Russell’s reaction. He had no right to drag Russell into a heart-to-heart. He had no right to make Russell confront this nagging feeling he’s been shoving down for over eight months now. 

Durant only got out a soft gasp before Westbrook’s lips were on his again, hands balled so tight at the collar of his ex-teammate’s shirt, he thought his knuckles might burst from the skin.

He bit Durant’s bottom lip and plunged his tongue inside when the other opened his mouth in grimace. He dragged his tongue over every inch of Durant, relishing in the taste, the feel, embedding every detail into his memory like this might be his last chance. It might be, Westbrook brooded, as he felt Kevin pulling away and his hands flew up, gripping Kevin’s face, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as much as he could.

Not yet. He pressed himself closer.

It couldn’t be over yet. 

He needed more of Kevin. More contact. _More_. 

Russell whined when Kevin managed to break free.

He panted, speaking between breaths, “We can’t do this here, Russ.”

“Then where?!” Westbrook blurted a little louder than intended. Both of them stayed silent for a moment, listening intently to hear if anyone was around, if anyone overheard them and was coming over. 

Nothing.

Westbrook refused to look at KD. He stared down at the floor, his face feeling hot and his pride smashed to pieces. He sounded desperate, he thought, with a vile taste in his mouth. He sounded like a baby. That wasn’t him. That was nothing like him.

Russell shook his head furiously. “No. Okay, _no_ ,” he stated, an odd, almost manic chuckle brushing his lips. “ _You_ don’t have a say. _You’re_ the one who started this.” 

The beef? The sexual interaction? Westbrook wasn’t sure which one he was referring to, but it mattered little because both were true, and both were driving him insane.

_‘I’m human. We’re all human. So, of course we feel certain things. Guys always act tough. They always act tough. They need to stop that.’_

Westbrook didn’t know why now of all times his brain decided to recall Durant’s words to the media earlier that week. He felt numb. He barely registered Durant pulling him into the Warriors locker room, ushering for him to take a sit on the bench before walking back to lock the door.

Westbrook’s clouded mind snapped from it's daze when his heart surged at Durant kneeling in front of him. For an irrational second, he thought Durant was going to propose. Oh, God, please don’t, Russell panicked. This fever dream was already proving too much for him and literally the last thing Westbrook’s sanity needed was for fucking _Kevin Durant_ to-

“Will you let me?”

“W-What?” Russell breathed.

Durant nudged his head in the direction of Russell’s shorts. “Blow you.”

Westbrook’s head was swimming. It wasn't a proposal, but at that moment Russell discerned that might have floored him a little less. It must've been a record for him to be turned on that fast. He nodded, voicing aloud when it didn’t seem satisfactory enough for Durant. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Durant’s hands were at his pants. Westbrook lifted his hips up slightly for Durant to pull his shorts and boxers down together. He didn't tease about Russell’s partially erect penis or comment on the bit of pre-cum already leaking from his dick. He merely admired it for a silent, agonizing moment for Westbrook before he took the member into his mouth.

Russell groaned, his nails scraping against the concrete as his hands curled.

Durant bobbed his head up and down, taking Russell a little deeper each time, occasionally dipping his tongue into the slit.

Sweat broke out at Russell’s forehead. His hands flexed and unflexed on the bench. He didn’t know what to do with them anymore. Maybe raise one to cover his fat mouth because he was certain between the slurps and his moans someone would hear them. 

Instead, willfully, his hands reached for Durant’s head. This nigga never combed his hair. He considered, maybe, being on the primadonna Warriors team, Durant would feel more inclined to keep up appearance. 

Russell smiled at that. 

At least one thing hadn’t changed.

“...Why?”

“Mm?” Kevin hummed around his dick, making Russell throw his head back as he murmured some incoherent sentence.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me first.” He breathed heavily. “Why did I have to hear from the media instead of your own d-damn mouth.”

Kevin came off his cock. Russell shivered at the loss of warmth.

He wanted a response, not Kevin staring at him with that kicked-puppy look. He was the victim here, not Kevin. Russell was the one that didn’t have a clue. Russell was the one that was told over and over he was Kevin’s brother, _‘like my little brother’_. Russell was the one who never yelled at Durant, not really, no matter how stupid he thought an ISO was. Russell was the one who giggled and grinned while Kevin ruffled his hair, then stood with his head reeling, microphones thrown in his face, lights flashing every two seconds, asking just how, oh, how did this happen? How did Westbrook not know?

**Why did Kevin Durant leave?**

He didn’t realize his eyes betrayed him until a hand brushed his cheek.

“Fuck,” Russell hissed, slapping Kevin’s hand away to wipe his own tears. “Fucking stupid. I can’t believe how fucking ridic-”

“I’m sorry.”

Russell’s hand froze.

“I’m sorry, Russ.” Durant was shaking his head. “I should’ve told you. I know. If anyone, I should’ve told _you _. Talked to you.”__

____

“I found out from a fucking _article_. Your text didn’t come ‘til later, by the way. I found out no different from a run-off-the-mill _fan_. No fucking different, Kevin.”

____

“I know. I’m sorry.”

____

“They asked me. Everyone asked me. The media, my family, _our_ teammates.” He reveled in how KD flinched. “They all asked me what happened. _‘Why did Durant leave?’ ‘Did you know about this, Russ??’_ I didn't even have time to recover, to put my head on straight before I was bombarded with questions and accusations.”

____

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

____

“ _‘Looks like he wants Stephen Curry over you.’ ‘Durant knew he could never win a ring with Russell Westbrook.’ ‘The Warriors don’t play hero ball like OKC does, like Westbrook does.’_ I didn’t have a response for any of that shit, Kevin!”

____

“I know. I’m sor-”

____

“ _ **If you say I’m sorry one more time!**_ ” He kicked his leg out, causing Durant to fall back on his bum, staring up at Russell. “Did you even give a damn about how I felt?! What position I’d be put in? How stupid I’d look? Did you even fucking care?! You know, I asked myself all those questions. At first, I wasn’t thinking too much of anything. No theories or shit like that. Just why. Just shock and disbelief and why over and over again with no answer. Not from me, and certainly not from you. Then people started _talking_. It didn’t take long. Like I said, I barely had time to fucking breathe before getting hounded. I started to consider all those things, then. Maybe you were thirsting for Steph. Maybe you and Green had been yucking it up the whole time last year, you leaving. Maybe you did sabotage us. Maybe I am selfish. Maybe you can’t win a ring with me. Maybe it was because of m- Ah!”

____

Durant wrapped his arms around Russell, quick to collect himself off the ground and squeeze Westbrook close to his body. “It wasn’t you.”

____

Russell faltered for only second before pushing Durant back. “Then what was it?! Look at me! Don’t fucking lie to me anymore! Shit, _start talking_! I’m over here spilling my guts like some emotional bitch and here you are giving me three word responses! I think I deserve that much. Right? A fucking explanation?!”

____

“I wanted.. I wanted to experience playing for a different organization. One that ran plays, team ball, where it didn’t matter who got the last shot. Just the open guy.”

____

Russell spat instantly. “You could’ve went to the Spurs! We all know how phenomenal Popovich is.” 

____

“I- Wait, is this about me leaving...? Or me leaving for the Warriors?”

____

“It’s about whatever the fuck I want it to be about!” Russell hopped up, nearly tripping from the shorts pooled at his feet, but he couldn’t be bothered to pull them back up. “The Warriors, man? Really? The team that just fucking beat us? That we were up 3-1 on? They had the best record of all time, _73-9_ , and _we_ almost beat them. You and me, together. _One_ game away. And you leave to go to _that_ team? With that bitch Draymond Green, who I find out ya’ll are supposedly “super” close. Closer than whatever the fuck eight years gave us, apparently. When the fuck did that happen anyway? You must’ve been talking to him on the side or something. The whole fucking season, what the hell? And that pussy Curry. You know I don’t like him. I thought you didn’t either. You certainly laughed at my jokes whenever I- _Why the fuck are you smiling?_ ”

____

Durant chuckled a bit, grinning. “You know, this is why I can’t get more than three words in. If the media could get you to talk this much, they might like you more.”

____

Russell’s cheeks warmed a noticeable shade. “You know damn well I don’t give a fuck about the media. Fuck them, and fuck you.” 

____

“We can go back to that, if you want.”

____

“Don’t try to change the subject.” Durant raised up, Westbrook’s legs hitting the bench in a feeble attempt to back away from Durant’s lips coming to meet the crook of his neck. “I’m still mad at you," he informed breathily as Durant nipped and sucked at the tender skin.

____

“I’d love to hear the sounds you make when you’re happy with me, then.”

____

“Shutup.”

____

Durant retreated slightly to look Westbrook in the eye. “Seriously, Russ,” he started, silencing Westbrook before he could open his mouth. “Let me speak for just a second. It wasn’t because of you, I promise. I meant all that stuff I said about you being a brother to me. That’s eight years of camaraderie right there. That can’t just be erased. I still consider you a close friend. Honestly, I was just...scared what you’re reaction might’ve been. I still am. I chickened out and I know that was a pussy thing to do, I realize that. Now, more than ever. But I can’t go back in time and stop myself from being an idiot. I’m not…asking you to understand or forgive me, but I’m hoping, maybe one day, you will.” 

____

“...One, that was longer than a second. And two, do you always treat your brothers like this?”

____

Durant gave him that kicked-puppy look again until Westbrook clarified, rolling his hips upwards so their erections grinded together, causing them both to groan.

____

Durant blinked, then laughed shortly. “So, does that mean you do? Forgive me, I mean.”

____

“I thought you weren’t asking for forgiveness.”

____

“I also said I hope one day you will. Even better if that be today.”

____

“You know I’m not one to lie-”

____

“You lie to the camera all the time.”

____

“I already told you, fuck them. But I’d be lying if I said I just up and forgive you now. Because I _don’t_ , don’t get it twisted.” He grabbed KD’s bicep and tugged him towards him. “But I _really_ want to continue what we were doing because my hard-on has been neglected for nearly ten minutes and all I can think about is you plowing me into the locker. So, I guess this episode of Family Feud is going to have to wait until a later date.”

____

Durant smiled. “Taking baby steps then?”

____

“I don’t care what we’re taking, as long as you take me right now. Come _on_.”

____

“Whatever you say, Russ.”

____

**Author's Note:**

> So, ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ not really back to normal. But at least the boys got to vocalize (and act on) some of their frustrations. No, dick cannot magically mend friendship and Westbrook feels, but he’s also horny and harbors complicated feelings for KD so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.
> 
> Please, **let me know what you thought!!!** This is my first Basketball RPF and really would like to know how I did! Thanks!


End file.
